Fear Squared
by Rebecky-mo
Summary: It may be a B movie, but it's A-plus nightmare fuel


Oh look, more Raoul and Tracks (But not together). _Quel suprise._ For the "Phobias" Challenge at LJ's Flesh_and_Steel.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Fear Squared<span>**

"So, remind me again why we're doing this?" Raoul asked the man walking down the street next to him. The two of them looked every bit like the odd couple. A pair of twenty-something's, one was in long wild hair and dressed in faded jeans and a well-loved brown leather jacket; the other every bit like a living Ken doll, brown hair cut short and stylish in grey slacks and dark blue jacket over a red dress shirt. Oddly enough, they both smelled of motor oil.

'Ken' sighed. "We're doing this to test Wheeljack's latest invention; the tactile holoform. He and Perceptor haven't figured out how to make the full hologram solid, but they have given the nanotechnology enough artificial intelligence for it to recognize where pressure is put on them, and focus themselves there. Therefore, if someone were to touch my hologram, their hand wouldn't simply pass through me, but feel something they think is solid."

Raoul tested said invention by elbowing the holoform in annoyance; the tactile A.I. worked like a charm. "I get the idea of testing the Boom-boys' new toys, especially if they have less chance of blowing up. But what are we doing _this_, Tracks?", pointing ahead to the small art house known as the Film Forum.

"Well, why not? I've always wanted to see a movie inside an actual building. And if the holoform malfunctions, the darkness will hide it, and our identity." Ah good, the line was short; this wouldn't take long.

"But it's a cartoon, man! Two grown men don't watch cartoons, damn it. How about we head uptown and catch the new Indiana Jones flick? I hear it's gonna be the last one." The mechanic/Autobot medic was practically pleading; he wasn't the same punk he used to be, but he still has his street cred. Not for much longer though, if guys caught wind of this...

Tracks sighed. "This cartoon earned high praise from the Sundance Film Festival last year; I hear it was a contender for top prize, actually. This movie's a limited release, while there's plenty of time to see Harrison Ford brandishing a whip. And I have no idea why adults aren't able to appreciate the work put into animated films; thousands of individually drawn images to form one full story; crude, but lovely. Besides," The 'bot in human clothing shot his friend a smug look "I know for a fact you still watch Bugs Bunny on TV every once in awhile-".

Hm, a hand covering the holoform's mouth actually silenced the vocalizer program. Interesting. He'd have to tell Wheeljack that.

"SHHHHHH! Do _not_ say that in public, damn it!" Raoul hissed out between his teeth. "Fine, fine, we'll go watch the damn movie. But you owe a manly night out after this. Sports bar, beer, flirting with girls; the works."

"Just don't throw up or try to make out with someone in me, and you have a deal. Oh look, it's our turn." Feeling triumphant, Tracks turned to the young woman at the ticket counter and gave a dashing smile. "Could I get two tickets to The Brave Little Toaster please? Raoul, twenty dollars if you please."

"You _suck_, man."

* * *

><p>The movie was surprising. The designs of the main protagonists (everyday household appliances given personalities and life) were what could easily be called 'cute' searching for their young human so they might be useful again. But there seemed to be very subtle back story, one a fair bit deeper than one would expect from a supposed 'children's movie'. Even Raoul eventually settled in to actually watch the film, rather than roll his eyes and grumble about the hard steel chair digging into his ass.<p>

It was interesting to watch the unlikely group bond as they traversed through the forest, running into friendly woodland creatures (he never understood the human's fascination with that idea) and dealing with the natural elements against their electrical nature. And then as they were about to sink into some, ugh, mud, the first human character appeared. He was a pudgy, awkward thing with an equally odd dog, and drove a _monster truck_ of all things! Was that even legal? The human pulled the appliances up from the muck, and took them back to safety at his shop among various other electronics; it seemed he was a repairman, lucky for the little lamp.

Oh...

_Oh._

Tracks felt every nanobot in his holoform buzz in distress as 'Mr. Peters' searched for his blender, shivering in fear behind the box on his worktable. A hopeless venture, and soon the poor thing was clamped tightly in the vice, trapped as the human went for his tools... his 'body' tensed into a knot as the blender was torn apart, piece by piece; cords ripped off, layers or plastic and metal pried away, wires yanked at and snipped. And a blender motor, still dripping oil, was nonchalantly brought to the front of the parts shop, as if it were _nothing_.

Suddenly, Tracks felt eyes on him. He turned to his side, to see Raoul looking at him oddly; he couldn't quite read the expression, but it seemed like he was looking for something. The Autobot quickly put on a small grin and murmured softly, "Interesting movie, hm?". All he got was another odd look, and finally a quiet "...Yeah, I guess." before the human turned back to the screen in time to watch the end of the musical number featuring _butchered_ lamps and can-openers, frowning a little.

Yes, it's just a movie, Tracks. Hardly something to get upset about; that'd be silly. Sillier still would be mentally sending a prayer that the Radio wouldn't meet the same fate; after all, he was a hero of the film.

For awhile after that, the movie settled back into a slightly more pleasant groove, though the disturbing undercurrent remained. They finally reached the home of their master, now a young man on his way to college, and ran into some more 'advanced technology' who basically spurned them and tossed them out the window for being older models. Which is ridiculous; vintage models could be lovely! They didn't suit him, really, but others could really pull off the look. Tracks couldn't help feeling bad for the poor things; they'd finally made it to their destination, only for their master to be at the cabin where they'd started from (and how sweet of him to fix the old air conditioner; he could see why the others loved him so). Now as 'Rob' made his way back home, the quintet were in a garbage truck headed for a scrapyard, to be forever lost among thousands of discarded items, from coat hangers to... to _cars_. But it seemed like they wouldn't even get forever, if the magnet had anything to do with it.

Oh dear sweet Primus, no. Not a crusher.

Tracks flinched, but couldn't look away as the first cubes moved down the conveyor belt, once cars who dreamt of an open road and the sights they'd seen. They sang of weddings and funerals, of sandy beaches and Route 66, and of now being worthless. Nothing more than scrap metal. It was like watching a train wreck. And then the reservation truck drove onto the conveyor belt, not even waiting for the magnet to take him. Tracks wanted to scream at him for giving up, for not fighting for even the few inches of road he may have left ahead, and wanted to cheer as the five heroes evaded the crusher and fooled the magnet at every turn.

Then Master was mistaken thrown onto the conveyor belt and headed towards the sinister thud and screech of thousands of pounds of weight coming down on twisted metals. He was trapped beneath the debris, his female companion clueless as to his position, yelling for help, as the helpless toaster looked on from a scarp pile above.

The boy bore a striking resemblance to the wheelchair-bound genius, Chip Chase.

Suddenly it was Blaster.

Then the horribly painted, but eternally kind ,sweet Cosmos. That fragger, Sunstreaker.

Others that were no longer functioning.

Himself.

He heard wicked laughter and taunts as the metal crunched beneath the weight and screams grew louder, begging for mercy.

The human's hand was inches from the crusher. Rob's scream of terror morphed and warped until it was Raoul begging desperately for help.

Tracks shut his optics tight and turned off his audios; he didn't want to see this. He wanted out; he needed _OUT_!

It seemed like forever that the 'bot stayed like that, hiding away from the current images and old memory files he could never seem to delete from his CPU; so long in fact, that the touch of leather startled him into turning his sensors back on.

"-ow you're in there buddy, don't make me come in there and get you." Raoul was standing in front of him, the concern written all over his face dramatized by the streetlights around them. He was no longer using his holoform, but was back in his alt form parked on the back streets. "Dude, _talk to me_ Tracks!"

The New York native stepped back as Tracks' holoform suddenly sparked back into vision, 'sitting' on the Corvette's hood before him, blue eyes dark and avoiding his own. "Your holoform fritzted out in there; I guess it was a little too much for it." He'd started to worry about the vain 'bot when the blender scene had come up; hell, knowing the Autobot's so long, the whole thing had gotten _his_ stomach turning a bit. But Tracks had managed through it, and that had seemed to be it...until the scrapyard came up, and the body next to him had started to hyperventilate a little, and started shaking. Holoforms didn't need to breathe. He had tried to grab at Tracks' arm, but his hand had fallen right through, and the false form started to flicker out, and the next thing he knew, the holoform had blipped out completely, the last image of it clutching it's hands to it's ears, face screwed tight in panic...

Raoul was pretty sure he'd upset more than a few moviegoers in his mad scramble to get out of the building to the Corvette. He was completely sure he didn't give a damn.

Tracks finally spoke through the holoform. "I didn't like that movie very much."

"I noticed." After a long minute, the mechanic (very, _very_ carefully) pulled himself up on the Corvette hood alongside the holoform, arms draped over his bent knees; said holoform still wasn't looking at him. "This is a war thing, isn't it."

It was more of a statement than a question.

A low sigh rumbled out from the car engine, and the holoform turned to the human. "Here on Earth, you have an expression of being 'pressed for information'. On Cybertron, the term is much more literal; Shockwave can be a sadistic piece of pit-spawn." That was the most he'd say about the subject. The two of them typically kept their outings together as leisurely as possible, unless the Decpticons were actually up to something at the time. But on the rare occasions, they would drive out to the country and just talk about the war on Cybertron, and the very real, everyday dangers Raoul had grown up with in his neighborhood. The similarities between them were disturbing sometimes, and it made it easier to talk about to someone who wasn't there, but understood. He didn't want to talk about this one. Tracks turned his head again to look down at his own hood, imagining scratches to be buffed out that weren't really there.

Suddenly a heavy weight was on his back, and he turned his head in shock to look at the arm draped over his fake shoulders; Raoul was not a 'public display' kind of a guy. Yet he got tugged a little closer to the real human, pulling their heads together slightly before Raoul muttered something by his audios, face the picture of firm determination. "Won't happen, man. Not while I'm still here and kicking ass."

It was ridiculous; yes, the humans had become great allies against the Decepticons, but his friend couldn't be with him every day of his short life. And even if he was, there were just some things beyond his control. Determined Decepticons were very high on that list.

Tracks couldn't help believing in him anyway.

He relaxed slightly into his friends' sideways embrace, relishing the comfort of the arm around his shoulders tightening a little more as he whispered a soft "Thank you, Raoul." They sat like that for a few quiet moments, another rare thing in their friendship and Tracks was appreciating this new tactile holoform a little more each minute, able to be sitting equally alongside the Yin to his Yang.

"Get a room, ya fruits!"

And suddenly the moment was ruined, bubble burst by the jeering taunts of a teenager in a blue mohawk.

Raoul's body stiffened a bit, but didn't pull his arm away; his mouth made the call to move though, as it always did. "Fuck off, asshole! Can't you see we're having a fucking _moment_ here? Smartass punk...Tracks? You alright, bud?" The Corvette had begun shaking beneath him, as was the holoform next to him, and had hidden his face from him, hand to his mouth. "Are...are you _laughing_?" A low snort escaped. "You are! You bastard; here I am freaking out over you, and you're _laughing at me_!" Raoul instantly tried to himself away from the false form in frustration, but was held firmly in place by the chuckling holo.

"I'm sorry Raoul, but _you_ just called _him_ a smartass punk; I couldn't help myself." The shaking subsided, and the light in Tracks' eyes was returning, if even a little. "I meant it though; thank you."

The man was blushing and scowling a little, but stopped trying to pull away. "Whatever. I meant what I said too, even if you are a bastard."

"...You know, we may be able to catch the late showing of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, if we hurry. Or we could hit the bar scene like you wanted." Being in the bar with Raoul may be more fun than being stuck watching him on the patio, even if he couldn't actually drink.

"Mm. Or."

"Or?"

"Or we could grab me a six-pack and chips, and rent a couple Disney flicks to watch at my place overnight. You never did get to see your whole cartoon." And none of them would have anything to do with cars or machines or crushing. Good old-fashioned princesses and princes and Happily Ever Afters...okay, maybe _other_ Disney movies, less sappy. Like Pinocchio, he actually liked that one; or maybe Peter Pan. Dumbo? Nooo, mommy movies were touchy with him. Hm, Sword in the Stone...or Sleeping Beauty, but only because of the dragonlady fight at the end and the fairy fashionistas arguing over dress colors.

Tracks just raised an eyebrow "And your street cred? Wouldn't renting 'kiddie movies' damage it?"

"It's down to zero for the rest of the year anyways, might at well take advantage of all the geeky-things until it renews. Maybe I'll let Chip convince me to play that D & D game he's been wanting me to, or try on that godawful white bodysuit Spike's been wearing... So?"

Tracks hopped off the Corvette hood, and smiled at Raoul. "It sounds good to me; I've been wanting to see your apartment anyways. Two birds, one stone." The holoform disappeared, and the driver's seat door opened. "Shall we?" The man smirked and climbed in, the two of them taking of into the bright lights of the Big Apple. The fear was still there, and would probably always be there; but for now, that's all it was. Just a fear. Hopefully that would stay that way, instead of a reality.

"Hey Tracks; pink or blue?"

"Where in the pit did _that_ question come from?"

"Just wondering."


End file.
